


my love has known yours for so long (the stars couldn't keep us apart)

by ahandsomebabe



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin gets migraines, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Foul-Mouthed R2-D2 (Star Wars), Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Obi-Wan and Anakin as oblivious idiots, Padme and Ani as former lovers turned close friends, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, also Mace is not a dick because I made it so, because lets fact it - canon, but not a PWP and no heavy gore, coping with battlefield trauma badly, rated M for sex scenes that are summarized in steamy fashion, warning for Palpatine because that slimeball is a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahandsomebabe/pseuds/ahandsomebabe
Summary: In four standard days of travel on board the Relentless, Anakin Skywalker sleeps, at best, a grand total of six hours.Half. Half of his men. Gone in one battle.Obi-Wan was nearly one of them.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 154





	my love has known yours for so long (the stars couldn't keep us apart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nimadge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimadge/gifts).



In four standard days of travel on board _the Relentless_ , Anakin Skywalker sleeps, at best, a grand total of six hours.

Half. Half of his men. Gone in one battle.

He _knew_ it would be heavy, had told the Council as such when they had landed to find all of their intel was worthless. The planet was heavily fortified, very much in bed with the Seperatists thanks to the murder of the main nations previous leader. They were facing three to one odds, and that droid factory? No. A _tank_ factory.

But the Council insisted, and so The Team made their best go of it.

And the Team which was already down to two, almost dwindled down to one. Obi-Wan, with only a handful of clones left, facing down Grievous and a small battalion of tanks, complete with the new Seperatist assault droids that came toe to toe with even Rex and Cody. Anakin couldn’t get to them in time; the 501st too far divided from the 212th to do anything other than watch. 

Unless you’re Anakin Skywalker, Chosen One. And you have the ability to, if you don’t mind being all but useless after, toss a dozen tanks and General Grievous off a cliff like so many pieces of trash.

Rex had to drag him to the factory to help rig the explosives after; Anakin could barely walk let alone run. But they had done it. 

And yet the cost, what Anakin did, changed everything. Hardly anyone will speak to him. Anakin is used to it from other Jedi — he was a freak among his own kind since day one — but the men of the 501st respected him. Liked him even. Anakin encouraged their individuality, their ideas, their ingenuity. Never left a man behind. But now, it’s one question after another that Anakin can’t answer. _How did the General do it? Why didn’t he do it sooner? Hadn’t they been in just as bad spots before?_

They had. The difference was, Obi-Wan was never in one of them. Until now. 

He spends the first day’s travel back in their shared rooms. It’s easy to give the excuse that Anakin needs rest, needs a Jedi to care for him. He only does so for as long as is necessary to regain movement in his limbs. Then he spends the day relearning the map of Obi-Wan’s body until neither of them can walk. Sleeps only for an hour, before he wakes to do it all over again. 

102 dead men. 

And the Council _congratulated_ him. 

On day two, Anakin addresses Rex and Cody and tells both commanders that they cannot let this pass without comment. Without ceremony. So they hold a funeral onboard the ship. The admiral is less than thrilled, and Anakin couldn’t give a damn less. The two generals and their commanders take turns reading the names of the dead aloud until it's done. Anakin vows to himself to never let it happen again, but it’s a promise he can’t make to his men. The Council is his master, just as much as Anakin is theirs. He wants to reach through the hologram and punt Yoda off-world, fights to shake off the thought for days. Obi-Wan is one of them; his former master won’t tolerate this if he picks it up.

It helped, as much as it made Anakin want to scream. The funeral brings them all back together, makes it clear that at the end of the day, Anakin works for them. And the fact that Anakin can’t shake this off, that he is mourning with them, endears him to them somewhat. The great thing about being a high functioning emotional disaster is that Anakin doesn’t have to tell his men how he feels — they are very much aware of it. 

He won’t speak a word of it to Obi-Wan — terrified that if he starts he won’t stop and that is not a road Anakin can go down. Sure, they share a bed now, sleeping and many hours of not sleeping, but they never discuss it. Perhaps to Obi-Wan it’s just a casual addition to their friendship; Anakin doesn’t know the meaning of the word casual other than attire. He feels with the intensity of the Force coursing through him, like a tidal wave, like a sandstorm that never lets up. And there is no one he feels more for than his partner, his best friend, the love of his life. Obi-Wan’s inner calm, his peace that is so profound Anakin has never picked up an emotion unless Obi-Wan wanted him to (and his mentor offered very little), is both Anakin’s favorite quality and also the one that infuriates him the most. 

Yet Anakin refuses to let his misery get in the way of their time together. Ever the opportunist, he pours that frustration into making Obi-Wan scream his name and shudder under his touch until the Force sings in pleasure around him, through him. And when Obi-Wan can’t take another round, he sleeps curled up around him. Ever restless, Anakin focuses on the faded but remaining training bond that reminds him Ahsoka is still alive. 

On that fourth day, as they are preparing to break atmosphere, Anakin receives word that he is being called on by the Chancellor, and would see him before debriefing at the Temple. It takes all Anakin has to force a smile and nod that of course, he would be happy to see Palpatine. 

If one more person congratulates him, Anakin is going to walk up to the Council and resign from his post altogether. The thought of being paraded around like he was on Naboo when he was just a boy isn’t exciting; it makes his skin crawl. Makes everything that isn’t nailed down hover and vibrate violently, ready to shatter. Until Obi-Wan opened the door, and everything set back to rights. 

On board the small transport through the city, Obi-Wan is smiling, soft and fond, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. They pushed their last round too close. Anakin is smirking at him from his side of the chamber as the shuttle weaves through traffic to the Temple. 

“What?” Obi-Wan asks.

Anakin looks like he’s going to tell him something either filthy or foolish. What he says is, “You’re still sore.”

Obi-Wan, master of negotiation and keeping a cool head in the worst of situations, feels his face go immediately pink. 

Anakin's grin becomes a full smile and a laugh, but he doesn’t say anything.

“How did you—?” Obi-Wan asks; his shields are far too strong for even Anakin at the moment.

“You always shift your feet, when you’re trying to hide you’re uncomfortable.” Anakin is positively beaming; a sharp cry from his state thirty minutes ago. “Will you be alright for the Council meeting?”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve sat through worse.”

Anakin snorts, the grin breaking back into a beaming smile. 

“What—”

“I forgot that you have to sit down,” Anakin says, snickering. “Because you’re one of them.”

Obi-Wan throws any negative emotions into the Force before Anakin can pick them up; his position on the Council is often a sore subject between them. But Anakin is smiling, the first he’s seen in two weeks. He refuses to be the reason it gives way to a frown. Even though Obi-Wan doesn’t approve of where his former padawan is going. He may be grinning, but there’s heavy dark circles beneath Anakin’s eyes; his lithe body leans against one wall of the transport, still weak from the feat he performed to save Obi-Wan’s life.

“Anakin—?

Anakin turns to look at him and _hmms_ , his expression soft and open, the way he only is when they’re alone.

“You’re my best friend. My partner. But if you don’t take a nap today I swear I won’t give you anything tonight until you’ve slept.”

Anakin blinks, speechless. “...wow.”

“You saved my life, and it's taken a great deal out of you to do it. You need to recuperate, Anakin. Please.”

His former padawan nods, an expression on his face Obi-Wan hasn’t seen before. “Alright, I will _take a nap._ Because you asked so nicely.” He’s back to grinning again as the transport touches down, Obi-Wan departing while Anakin stays on to head to the Senate offices where the Chancellor awaits him. 

“And Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan turns around, eyebrows up near his hair line in question. 

“Be sure to tell the Council you’ve found an effective way of getting me to listen.”

Obi-Wan laughs, turns beet red, and must work quickly to shed the lust, desire, love, affection, into the Force before he steps foot in the Temple.

Master Yoda is waiting for him. 

\---

Anakin is only half aware of what Chancellor Palpatine is saying. 

The senator has invited him for a luncheon. Anakin has barely started in on what is the best meal he’s had in well over a month, when the man asks the same thing as always, after Anakin. His exploits, how the battle went, has he gained any ground in his search for the Sith. Anakin is always happy to share his exploits with Palpatine, the only person he trusts almost as much as does Obi-Wan. But even Genosis wasn’t like this. That, at least, had merit. He understood the need for the sacrifice. No, this had been a slaughter and Anakin can’t understand what it was all for. 

So instead, he tells the Chancellor that he’d rather not talk about it. They lost a lot of men, it was difficult, and that’s all he says. His shortest mission recap to date. 

Palpatine fortunately is incredibly perceptive and easily steers clear of the topic in favor of other talking points. He discusses his worries about the Council, mentions that Anakin should be wary of Obi-Wan as he’s one of them too. Anakin knows, he hasn’t forgotten. But Obi-Wan isn’t like them just as the Chancellor isn’t like most senators, which makes Palpatine laugh. 

It’s that precise moment when his eyes start to ache. Anakin is reaching for the glass of water, eschewing anymore of the fine wine despite how pleasantly dull it makes things feel, and for the next ten minutes he hopes that's all it is. Too much wine, not enough water, not enough sleep.

He continues eating as Palpatine advises him that Anakin is a great man who deserves better. That Ahsoka wasn’t his fault; he should have been assigned a better Padawan, for as Chosen One he should be entitled to the best of everything. 

Anakin reminds him that's not how the Jedi work; he has to work to earn his way just as everyone else does. The headache blooms into something encompassing his temples and eases down his face as Palpatine lays in on the usual diatribes: how they fear Anakin, that he’s too powerful for them to understand. That if the Chancellor could only access the forbidden archives he would certainly find something to aid Anakin in his training. 

Anakin assures him it's alright, the Chancellor has enough to deal with on the Senate as is. 

He’s not sure what else is said or how much time passes. All Anakin knows is that at one point he tries another sip of water and it just makes his stomach turn. He must have closed his eyes against the onslaught of light, because the next thing he knows he’s opening them as the Chancellor asks if he’s alright. 

Anakin says no, he isn’t. 

This time when he reaches for the water, the water floats up out of the glass, the cup rotates on the spot, and topples over in the Chancellor’s direction. The water somehow turns solid, and falls next to it with a thud. 

The Force is flowing through him like he’s on the war front, tempestuous and looking for a target, but finding none. Anakin moves to stand and nearly collapses; it's only his firm grip on the table that keeps him upright as the world revolves and he blinks away the vertigo. This is bad. He needs to get to his room, now. 

Palpatine is at his side and telling him to sit. That he’ll send for his best physician, and Anakin can rest at the guest room in his apartments. 

Anakin declines harshly, knows he’s being too sharp but hasn’t the ability to censor himself. Palpatine reaches out to touch him, and Anakin barely sees it coming. Steps out of reach just before the familiar fatherly hand can land on his shoulder. The last person to touch him during a moment like this was in the Halls of Healing for a month, and that person was Healer Che. 

He doesn’t tell Palpatine that. He lies, says it's just a side effect of overuse of his abilities on the front. He needs the Temple and their remedies, that's all. 

The Temple has no remedy, but if he told Palpatine that the man would never let him leave. He at least insists on calling him for a ride back, as Anakin is in no state to drive, and on this, he acquiesces. 

The only good thing about being the Hero With No Fear is everyone in the Senate is so perpetually frightened of him that most avoid him, especially when he’s alone. Right now it is his only saving grace as everything is too loud, too bright, and his shields are in tatters. He can hear what they think, feel what they feel, and it makes his skin crawl. Each light bulb makes his head throb like he’s taken a shell too close on the front, and he swears the pain is getting worse still, reaching a new plateau he’s never found before. 

Anakin is nearly to safe harbor when someone is calling his name, just as he’s descending the Senate Hall steps to the sleek hover car waiting for him below. 

Padme, his ex-girl friend, now close friend. Her smile vanishes when Anakin turns around and he knows how he must look. Sweating, shaking, eyes glazed over, and green around the gills.

“Ani, you don’t look well.”

“That’s because I’m not,” he snaps, and her hurt reverberates through the Force like a blow. “I’m sorry, I just-” He winces as someone honks a horn many yards away and the sound makes the pain sharpen, swapping the hammer for a knife. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later,” and he gets in the car without hearing her response. 

He lifts his hood in the car to block out the sun and keeps his eyes shut until they reach the Temple. He does not lower his hood once inside, like a good Jedi should. He keeps it up, though his signature navy and maroon colors make it obvious who he is. 

Everyone carves a swath like a canyon to keep clear of him; he passes a few younglings and one of them even whimpers. He can only imagine what he must feel like, if the Force around him is anything like what he feels in his head, a shifting, violent tempest ready to lash out at anyone who gets too close, as it’s lashing out at him. 

He walks as quickly as he can, past youngling accommodations and the larger Council apartments, until finally he comes to his own room and bolts the door shut behind him. 

Anakin barely manages to get his boots off before he collapses in bed under all three blankets, shaking against the cold and trying to calm his thoughts long enough to be pulled into unconsciousness. Wonders if he were better at meditating would he be able to simply remove himself from his body altogether, escape into the Force completely. But the Force only whiplashes him for his efforts, the pain in his head doubling. 

He doesn’t know how it can get _worse still,_ and then he’s racing to the fresher to throw up everything he ate at lunch. There’s a sound that makes him pause as he’s wiping vomit off his face and Anakin realizes that's him, making that whimper. His face is wet with tears. 

He stumbles back to bed, grateful now that Obi-Wan is so detached from him in the Force, their bond stretched so thin since the Council demanded it severed upon his knighting. No one deserves to feel even a fraction of this, least of all the man who puts up with him so much already. That there is any bond left is a miracle in itself.

It’s just as he thinks he’s finally passing out that he feels the remnants of his other training bond flare to life, the one that he also refused to sever despite a trial by Council. Ahsoka’s presence is like an eye in the hurricane: calm, clear skies, for the seconds it can last. She’s worried, afraid for him. He assures her he’s alright, and that he loves her, Force he loves her so much. 

She reminds him that she left the Order, not him. And tells him to listen to Obi-Wan and rest. Anakin smiles for a second before the connection fades out, and his world is reduced to his own ugly sobs as he fights through the pain. 

\---

Anakin hasn’t answered his comms in half an hour. There’s no way he could still be with the Chancellor; Palpatine’s secretary would have said if he were, and Anakin would have answered. It’s Padme who tells Obi-Wan that he’s unwell, and that he went back to the Temple. To try the Halls of Healing. 

Obi-Wan thanks her and promises that Anakin is just fine, merely tired, when he hangs up to go search for him. 

It’s a lie. Anakin is not fine, Obi-Wan knows it the second he lowers his shields just centimeters enough to get snapped at. As if the Force that binds them is a gundark, and not the calm breeze or electric wave Anakin has so often described.

It’s a long walk to Anakin’s room; the Council had him moved when his former Padawan’s first episode took out three of their healers and destroyed a third of their equipment, including two whole bacta tanks. No one has yet to find the cause or a treatment for Anakin’s episodes, only a simple solution: isolate him while he rests it off.

As it turns out, isolation is a very easy thing to find in the middle of a war. They’ve lost so many promising Jedi that there are plenty of empty rooms to put between Anakin and everyone else. Most days, Obi-Wan despises it. Anakin who is already so isolated distanced from his fellows even more. Today, he’s grateful. Anakin hopefully won’t put anyone else in a coma.

When he unlocks the door to Anakin’s room and finds him shivering under even his winter blankets, sobbing quietly, Obi-Wan comms Master Plo and tells him to cancel the meeting. Rather, send Master Windu to Anakin’s quarters. 

Mace is due to leave for a mission to the Outer Rim this afternoon; he needs any advantage, and he’ll likely come up with any advice the Council could have offered on his own anyway. Obi-Wan spares a thought for how tedious the Council has become and tosses the emotion away before Anakin can grab hold of it. The last thing he needs is his former padawan to distrust them more than he already does. 

Obi-Wan can handle the Council; it’s why he took the post after all. He never wanted the seat, just as Qui-Gon never did. But unlike his Master, Obi-Wan puts the needs of Anakin first. Being a part of them, rather than apart from them, gives him influence on decisions, which Obi-Wan can use to keep the ones he loves safe. 

He’s just considering crossing the room to close the distance between them, to sit with Anakin at least, when a soft series of soft knocks sounds on the door, the pattern distinct. It’s Mace, and he’s alone. After the last Temple break-in, they can’t be too careful.

Obi-Wan opens the door and closes it behind him, standing with Master Windu in the hallway, instead of inside Anakin’s quarters. It’s mid-afternoon; most of the other knights are to lunch or fulfilling duties. It's quiet enough. 

“How is he?” Mace asks, and it's with none of the cold, clinical tone he uses at meetings. He cares; it's why Obi-Wan trusts him.

“Semi-conscious,” Obi-Wan answers, knows this from the fuzzy imprint of his signature in the Force that means Anakin is halfway in and out of sleep. “It’s bad, I’m amazed he made it back on his own. He’ll be in bed at least till tomorrow, if we’re lucky.”

Mace frowns. “Is this from...?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. Anakin pulls on the Force often in battle, though never to this extent — it's never predated an attack before. He knows; he keeps track. “He was fine on the field. Tired, but nothing like this. He’s had trouble sleeping, the losses have hit us all hard. But—”

“He’s had trouble sleeping before,” Mace finishes. 

Obi-Wan nods. Mace doesn’t comment on how Obi-Wan knows these things, and Obi-Wan is beyond grateful. He tells Mace everything that comes to mind as vital: the bad intel, the worse fight, the men shying away from Anakin after that display of power. Obi-Wan suggests giving the 501st and the 212th a short reprieve; Mace agrees without question. They both know the Council won’t like it, but between the two of them they can get the rest to see reason. 

“We shouldn’t have been there Mace. The operation was wrong from the start, and we should have known before we ever landed.”

“I agree,” Mace says, his voice grim. But the Chancellor called it vital, and much of the Council agreed. Mace did not, but he was already majority overruled, so he kept silent. 

102 dead men are the result. 

However, the subject of the Chancellor gives Obi-Wan a thought, one he hopes Anakin is not awake enough to pick up on. “I have an idea, but I’ll need to look over some notes before I can confirm it. Where are they sending you now?”

“Outer Rim,” Mace scoffs. “Another key planet we need to gain an alliance with before the Separatists can. A few days travel, at least.”

“Could I call you when I have something?” Obi-Wan asks. “I’d like your insight on this.”

“Of course. I’ll pass your information along to the Council. It should give you both at least till tomorrow before they call on you again. They don’t like being kept in the dark about Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan snorts. “Well, if they would like some time in the Halls of Healing, they are welcome to see him.”

Mace, who received a concussion the last time, huffs. The grin that follows is the closest Obi-Wan sees him to laughing anymore. “I will remind them that Skywalker’s isolation is mandatory to their safety. Let me know what you come up with as soon as you do. I don’t like this; it has the stench of the dark side all over it.”

Obi-Wan nods. “My thoughts exactly. May the force be with you, Master Windu.”

Mace nods, “And may the force be with you both. Tell Skywalker he did well with that kriff-mess of a mission.”

Obi-Wan nods, promises he will, and with that he braces his shields as best he can, shutting Anakin’s door behind him. 

Inside, things have grown worse. Loose droid parts are floating all around the room. The large sofa is trying and failing to levitate, gaining a few inches of height before thudding to the ground, and restarting all over again. 

Obi-Wan swears in Mandoa, shucks off his boots, and races to Anakin’s bedside. 

Bracing for it, he touches Anakin’s forehead where it's slick with sweat. The Force rampaging around his former padawan only bites Obi-Wan once, the sting felt in the center of his palm, before it releases, recognizing him as safe and a friend. It gives a slap when he lets go, across the knuckles, and Obi-Wan doesn’t know which he’s promising he will be right back to, Anakin or the Force itself. 

He tries not to think about it as he goes to the kitchen for a bowl, fills it with cold water, and takes a clean washcloth from the fresher. As he dabs the cool, damp towel on Anakin’s forehead, Obi-Wan takes care to keep his mind clear. Anakin has no shielding like this; he can pick up stray thoughts and secrets if a person lets them cross their conscious for even a moment. As if the Force is reading them aloud to him — that's how Anakin last described it. And he would rather not have his former padawan find out Obi-Wan is madly in love with him while the young man is out of his mind in pain. 

Anakin who starts to rouse as Obi-Wan dabs the sweat away. “Master, ‘s cold.”

“I’m sorry dear one,” he whispers, setting the towel and the bowl aside on the nightstand. “But it will help, the heat can’t be good.”

“I don’t feel hot,” Anakin grumbles, trying to burrow further into the blankets.

“I know,” Obi-Wan says, already undoing his obi and setting his lightsaber aside. He’s just about to stand up when Anakin’s mech hand wraps around the hand that had been brushing Anakin’s hair out of his face, hard enough that the bones in his wrist feel tight against one another. 

“Stay,” he says, and Anakin isn’t asking.

“Anakin, I’m not going anywhere,” Obi-Wan reassures him, but Anakin still won’t let go. 

Obi-Wan sighs like the most put upon parent and instead of walking around the bed like a normal person, crawls over Anakin and to the other side. The mech hand still hasn’t released him, but this is old hat by now. Obi-Wan gets under the covers and pulls Anakin’s shivering body close to him with his free hand, settling Anakin’s head back against his chest. The mech hand pins Obi-Wan’s other arm to his front, the grip loosening enough to be comfortable as Anakin starts to relax. 

He’s not even sure Anakin is aware of the quiet whimpers he’s making anymore. Obi-Wan’s only answer for it is to keep whispering kind words to him — that Anakin is safe, that he’ll get through this, that Obi-Wan is so proud of him — until the whimpers give way to troubled breaths and Anakin is at last asleep. The droids parts fall to the floor, and the couch settles and doesn’t move another inch.

With a kiss to Anakin’s sweaty forehead, Obi-Wan reaches out with the hand not trapped by Anakin’s mech hand and summons a datapad from the kitchen. It’s easy enough to access the calendar Obi-Wan keeps of Anakin’s migraine attacks. 

What he finds over the course of six months is alarming. 

\---

When Anakin comes to consciousness again, he’s covered in sweat, it's pitch black, and there’s a warm body curled up around him, holding him in place and breathing softly into his hair. The last thing he remembers is hearing Obi-Wan in the Force, promising him that he was safe, that he would be okay, and that he loved him so Anakin had to be alright. 

The last one makes him shudder.

Everything is wrapped in fog, the Force hazy. He wonders everytime this happens if this is what the Council means when they say the Force is shrouded. Anakin wouldn’t know; it's either off or on. There is no in between for him. His senses feel dull. The inability to summon even the datapad Obi-Wan has fallen asleep with, frightens him. It happens every single time after an attack, and it never stops being terrifying. 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. The ache in his chest eases up. It will come back, it always does. Anakin calms down. 

Until cold metal touches his human hand where it hangs off the bed. Anakin swears in Huttese, but the beeping he receives in reply is a curse far worse. 

“I’m sorry buddy,” he croaks; his throat hurts and he needs water. He needs a shower, and more rest. Blinking dried up tears away, Anakin rubs his eyes until his vision clears somewhat. 

R2 is awake, his charging pad abandoned in the corner, but still lit up, so he had to have been there moments ago. R2 turns his head one way, then the next, and squeezes Anakin’s hand again, the series of beeps that follows still swearing, but he’s not upset. Just worried. 

“I’m okay, really. Did I break anything this time?”

R2 shakes his head, and explains that there’s droid parts _everywhere_ now though.

Anakin groans; those had taken weeks to sort out, and half of them were to upgrade R2’s spanner so the droid could defend himself better. It wasn’t sanctioned; Anakin had to design the entire build himself from scrap. Now he will need to sort out the pieces again from the ones he also bought 3-P0. “What time is it?” he asks. 

_4:30 am,_ R2 tells him. 

Anakin groans; no wonder he’s starved. Carefully, he turns to look at Obi-Wan — his former Master is fast asleep, mouth open just a little in that way he does when he’s been out at least a few hours already. He won’t be waking anytime soon, but that’s alright. Anakin should be alright on his own for a few hours, so long as he doesn’t push it. 

With his droid guiding him so he doesn’t step on any errant parts, Anakin makes it to the kitchen. The dull ache in his left temple tells him he needs water, badly, unless he wants another headache one tenth the size of the last one. He greedily downs a whole glass in one go, even though it sits uneasy in his stomach. Toast comes next, with the spiced preserves Obi-Wan had introduced him to when he was small. He starts rifling through his cabinets for something that requires minimal effort, and settles on a can of stew that has been sitting there since he moved in two years ago. 

At his droids insistence, he lets R2 open it for him. The last thing Anakin needs is to slice his hand open on the sharp metal. R2 does a brief scan and hands it back, pronouncing it edible if a little stale. Anakin huffs that it can’t be any worse than what he’s been forced to eat on the front, and puts it in a small pot on low. 

His legs feel shaky, so he sits on the floor with R2, occupies himself by looking the droid over. There’s a few decent dings to his dome from the last dog fight, and his optics need to be cleaned again; Anakin adds them to his to-do list and pushes them further to the top than he should. Obi-Wan loves to get on Anakin for his lack of patience, but Anakin’s droid is far worse. Give it 48 hours for Anakin to recover, and the little caretaker will start tripping him up like a devil, messing with his alarms, and highjacking his comms until Anakin puts him to rights. For now, R2 is patient, purring as Anakin rubs slow circles over the metal dome, the cool surface both calming and grounding. 

He must have begun to doze, because R2 is startling him awake and telling him to eat his soup. And drink more water. The little droid manages to nudge Anakin upright and guide him to one of two seats at the tiny table in his kitchenette. He takes something when it feels the food might come back up — the fault of his own state, not the soup — and lets R2 guide him to the shower. 

The little droid beeps that he shouldn’t be alone in the fresher — he could fall and get hurt. Anakin promises that he’s fine, less dizzy now with food giving him a little bit of strength. He’s just slow, clumsy, but he can handle this. 

R2 swears up a storm and rolls off as Anakin turns on the water and steps beneath it. So really, it should come as no surprise as a hand touches his bare shoulder only minutes later. Anakin squeaks, jumps, spins around so fast his vision goes hazy. 

But he can still see Obi-Wan, exhausted but gently smiling. Also naked, in the fresher with him. “You shouldn’t be up,” he says, voice soft and raspy with sleep. 

“And R2 shouldn’t have woken you,” Anakin says, loud enough to carry beyond the fresher door. Just above the sound of the water, he can hear a series of sharp beeps that is R2 swearing in Huttese, picked up from Anakin over the years. It sounds even funnier in binary. 

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m glad he did,” pushing wet hair out of Anakin’s face. “Let me?”

They rarely get to shower together anymore, not in private. Washing is communal on the front, often a dozen men at a time laughing at each other from various stations. 

Anakin nods and hands Obi-Wan the soap, biting back a groan as the man’s hands massage it into his scalp, gentling through the tangled curls. 

“How are you feeling? R2 said you’ve eaten.”

Anakin makes the mistake of nodding and gets an ice pick behind his eyes for it. He puts a hand to the shower wall, shuts his eyes, and breathes past it. It takes him a moment to remember what Obi-Wan has said. 

“Anakin?” his voice sounds worried; Anakin hates making him worry. 

“I’m alright. Just Force-dead. Sorry I jumped before, I can’t sense a damn thing,” he sighs.

Obi-Wan tips his head and Anakin moves with him like a puppet, letting the older man rinse the soap from his hair. Obi-Wan just _hmms_ and applies conditioner to the snarled ends, leaving it in as he turns Anakin around to face him. His former master looks as exhausted as Anakin feels. Who knows how long the man stayed awake, looking after him as Anakin was delirious. 

Anakin frowns, runs a thumb over the shadows that have grown dark under Obi-Wan’s eyes; those weren’t there this morning. “I—”

“I’ll hear none of it,” Obi-Wan says, pressing a finger over Anakin’s mouth to silence him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Not a thing. Understood?”

Anakin nods, gently this time. 

“Good, now hand me the soap would you?”

Anakin snorts but does as he’s told. He should be embarrassed to be taken care of like this, but finds the feeling never comes. He feels safe, at peace. Content. Loved even. Fortunately, Obi-Wan has the best shielding of any Jedi he’s ever met, and Anakin doesn’t feel as though there’s enough of him connected to the Force to project a thing. He’s weak, but safe, at least from his own heart. 

\---

It takes every ounce of self-control Obi-Wan has in him not to kiss Anakin soundly on the mouth at the emotions pouring through him. Anakin is quiet in the Force, the energy that normally dances through him gone dormant, but his feelings are louder than ever.

At first, it helps, knowing Anakin isn’t embarrassed at Obi-Wan in his personal space like this. Yes, they’ve fucked plenty of times and will undoubtedly again in the future, but this is different. Intimate in a way they so carefully have avoided being. 

Then Anakin’s emotions shift as Obi-Wan continues washing him up, from comfortable to content to so loved and in love that Obi-Wan nearly buckles under the weight of it. Has to stop and take a breath before he announces Anakin as clean. Obi-Wan Kenobi has been so afraid for so long that his former padawan would find out how his longing has changed, grown, in their time together on the front, that he never once stopped to consider that it was possible Anakin Skywalker was in love with him too.

If Anakin senses the new found tension in Obi-Wan’s voice, he doesn’t comment on it. The emotions shift from love to gratitude, thanks, and Obi-Wan finds it a little easier to breathe. Anakin is clumsy even with just a towel, more like a kitten than the deadly warrior he knows the man to be, but Obi-Wan lets him dry himself off. Knowing Anakin will eventually get annoyed with his doting. _I’m not a kid anymore, Obi-Wan. You don’t need to babysit more anymore, Master._

He shakes his head fondly as he dries himself off and changes into sleep clothes; they’ve both leaned up so much from the war that they’re frighteningly similar in size, though Anakin has gotten much taller. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and when he turns around Anakin is not dressed, but very much naked and smirking at him. “I took a nap, just like I promised,” he grins, biting his bottom lip. The hand on his shoulder runs down Obi-Wan’s bare chest where he’s yet to put on a shirt, nails gently scoring just enough to make Obi-Wan bite back a moan. How does Anakin not know he’s in love with him? He’s the most oblivious, force sensitive man in the galaxy.

Obi-Wan is about to tell him that no, a severe migraine attack lasting 14 hours straight does not count as a nap, when R2 smacks into both of their legs, cursing up a storm. “Is that so R2? He’s only had a single glass of water since getting up?”

Anakin swears in Huttese and R2 curses him right back. “You little _snitch_ ,” he snarls. 

Obi-Wan laughs. “No extracurricular activities while dehydrated — you know the rules, Anakin.”

“It’s a stupid rule,” he snaps, but accepts the sleep clothes Obi-Wan shoves into his hands, which is quickly followed by another glass of water from the kitchen. Once Anakin is settled in bed, with just one blanket this time, Obi-Wan refills it and sets it on the nightstand before joining him. 

He’s not sure if he can sleep himself — the knowledge that the person he’s in love with feels the same has his mind racing — but as Anakin curls up against Obi-Wan he finds himself calming regardless. The steady beat of Anakin’s heart thumps alongside his own as they’re pressed chest to chest, Anakin curling up on top of him as though Obi-Wan is one massive pillow for him to hold. Anakin grumbles something about _this_ counting as his nap as Obi-Wan kisses him on the forehead and drifts off himself, just as the sky is starting to grow light with the dawn. 

\---

The next time Anakin opens his eyes, the sun is out, and it only hurts a little. He draws the first layer of curtains to dapple it, not dim it entirely, and it’s enough for his eyes to stop aching. He has about a dozen missed messages on his comm, and the time reads eight in the morning, Coruscant Standard. 

He puts on a pot of caf, makes toast, and messages Padme an apology for snapping at her, promises it wasn’t anything she’d done. She replies just as the bread pops that she knows he wasn’t himself and is glad he’s feeling better. _Everyone was worried._

Anakin types out _Whose everyone_ and deletes it without sending. Part of him wants to know, but the overwhelming loom that comes after an attack says nobody worries because no one cares. It's a lie, he knows this, but it's hard to shake. 

The fog is present but not as dense. He summons a cup from cupboard for his caf, and adds extra cream and sugar so it sits alright. R2 comes to see him as he sits at the table, going through the reports from other battalions still in the field, and beeps happily to see him upright and mostly functioning. He’s still a mess, but R2 says he’s always a mess so that's fine.

Anakin shakes his head, grinning, and for the moment it doesn’t hurt either. He’s restless, and the caf doesn’t help that, but it gives him the push he needs to get clothes on, debating pulling a brush through his hair before realizing he doesn’t need it. Somewhere in the shower, Obi-Wan worked out all the knots. The realization makes him shiver, and he looks in his bed at the man still asleep there. His mouth is closed, face soft and relaxed, hair mussed from sleep. 

Anakin has half a mind to crawl back into bed with him, but he’s already stepped on two hydro-screws and a bonding plate this morning. The last thing he needs is Obi-Wan hurting himself on any of it. So he clears space on the floor for a couch cushion, takes the two plastic trays he’s liberated from the dining hall, and gets to work. It won’t be the neat knolling he had before, everything grouped together in perfect harmony, but at least he’ll have them separated by project again. 

The Force moves pleasantly around him while he works, and he sends Ahoska a brief _Still kicking, Snips,_ through their bond, as he gets up to search the room for missing screws and one errant conduit converter.

R2 is using his flashlight to help look under the couch, when Anakin feels a ripple in the Force that says Obi-Wan is awake. The time on Anakin’s comm says it's 11am. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” Anakin says, looking up from over the back of the couch at his bed.

Obi-Wan isn’t even sitting up yet, but Anakin hears his soft chuckle anyway: “Very funny.”

It twists something in Anakin’s chest and he’s assaulted with the memory of that voice in his head yesterday, telling Anakin he loved him over and over. Anakin swallows hard. “Caf?”

“No, stars above. Tea, please.”

Anakin snorts, pushes himself to his feet and puts the kettle on. R2 beeps and his head spins in excitement — he’s found the damn conduit converter.

“Good job bud,” Anakin grins, patting him on the dome and taking the offered part, a tiny green square that is essential to R2’s mostly legal upgrade. 

He can hear the blankets shift and the bed frame creak as Obi-Wan sits up to lecture him. “You should be resting,” his former master sighs. 

Anakin puts the square in the tray labelled R2 STUNNER and sits on the edge of the bed.

“I think I’ve rested enough. I was out, what, eighteen hours? That’s more than enough sleep.” He’s mostly dressed, in his standard issue leggings and undershirt. He doesn’t bother with the full robes if he’s just at home. Obi-Wan is still shirtless; Anakin can’t look away. 

Obi-Wan frowns, opens his mouth to say something, but the kettle goes off so he puts his hand up instead, the universal sign for “one moment” as he quickly puts together what amounts for tea in Anakin’s quarters. Neither of them are here very much anymore. 

“As I was saying,” Obi-Wan begins as he sets the tea on the nightstand and resumes his seat in bed, “the length of your attack doesn’t count as rest, as you know well.”

“But I didn’t even break anything!” Anakin protests. 

Obi-Wans puts a finger over Anakin’s lips, and it's all Anakin can do not to open his mouth and nip it. “ _You_ broke. Did you know that even in your sleep, you whimper? It’s... Anakin. You are the Chosen One, you are the best man I know, and the strongest Jedi I have ever seen, and it is frightening to see you like that, in agony, helpless. I have seen you shot, stabbed, crushed, dismembered, and this...this is worse.”

Anakin doesn’t speak. His shields are like a ship after a hard siege, operating at only 20% or less. The Force shifts around him in agitation, and it's easy to feel Obi-Wan within it, afraid, worried, and adoring. The adoration is new and it stops Anakin from saying whatever argument he had planned. He’s speechless for so long he just nods, sputters out an, “I know,” and before he knows it he’s saying, “It scares me too.” 

He’s not supposed to be afraid — he’s the Hero With No Fear — but this is terrifying. If it struck Anakin on the field, he could be taken out by the dumbest of rust buckets. There’s a thought that comes to mind every time he’s in the middle of it, fighting through the pain just to take another breath, that maybe he’s not meant to be here. What if the Chosen One is a mistake? Too many midichlorians for a human body to handle, too Force sensitive to live. What if he isn’t supposed to exist?

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice losing its humor for something softer and far more serious. 

Anakin shakes his head like he’s warding off flies. It’s just the after effects, the emotional drop after leaving him miserable and aching. It will fade as the Force comes back to him. “It’s nothing, I probably just need to mediate.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan says, and the smile the man gives him says he knows that Anakin is lying through his teeth. “Or would you rather hear what I’ve found?”

“Found?” Anakin lights up. “You found something?”

“A pattern,” he explains, showing Anakin the calendar. 

Anakin blinks; he has never known that Obi-Wan kept a record of his migraines. The level of devotion and care in this one man makes him want to weep; he tells himself this too is the come down. “A pattern of what?”

“The healers thought your attacks came after particularly strenuous missions, but that isn’t always the case. You had one after Mustafar, for example, but not Genosis. Nor after the attack on the Temple.”

“So what’s the common denominator?”

“The Senate. Any time you’ve come back from a mission and visited the Chancellor, you’ve had an attack. You see less of each other because of the war, that’s why you’ve only had four in the last two months.”

Anakin turns pale. No, the Chancellor wouldn’t, couldn’t hurt him. He was like a father to him, or a doting grandfather perhaps. “You don’t suspect, Palpatine—”

Obi-Wan’s face goes blank and he shrugs. “I can only show you the data, I have nothing more. You do always visit him at his Senate chambers, and so it could very well be another Senator affecting you. Dooku said himself the Sith Lord has a great deal of power in the Senate, and we know there are Senators who oppose the war. There could be any number of them in line with the Separatists or the Sith, affecting you.”

Anakin never considered that, that a threat could be so close to home, so close to Palpatine and Padme. “Have you told the Council?”

Obi-Wan frowns. “No. And I don’t plan on it. They’re too deeply embedded with the Senate now, and ever since the attack on the Temple I am wary of trusting anyone with sensitive information like this. The only one I think whose paranoid enough to be trusted with it is Mace; I plan to call him later today.”

Anakin just nods, stunned. If anyone ever told him Obi-Wan Kenobi would willingly keep secrets from the Jedi Council of which he is now a member, Anakin would ask them to get a tox scan to be sure they hadn’t been dosed with something. “So you’ve brought it up with Mace then?”

“I have, he suspects influence from the dark side. I’ve never heard of anything such as this, and I have been researching it for months in the Archives. But that also makes a good deal of sense, as there has never been a Jedi as gifted as you before. However, I have built up a theory.”

“You have?! Why haven’t you told me before?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Obi-Wan says, smiling reassuringly and taking Anakin’s mech hand in his own. “I’m still not completely sure, but I think we’ve been looking at this all wrong. The healers have been trying to find commonality in similar medical cases, but I believe that is where the folly lies. I felt it again today when I first came to check on you. When I touched you, the Force lashed out, but only for a moment. As soon as it realized it was me, it backed away. Yet when I tried to leave you, it struck again — that was new. We’ve _known_ the Force is a living thing; it's been studied as long as the Jedi have existed. But I think we’ve forgotten that the Force is a _knowing_ thing. It guides us all, but it is also a being which thinks, remembers, and learns. I believe, and this could be entirely incorrect, but I believe that your migraines are the result of the Force trying to protect you, possibly from a Sith influence, when you’re too weak to protect yourself. The pain is like an alarm bell. And those who touch you get harmed because it perceives them as a threat.”

Anakin feels himself go pale, swears his heart stops for a second. “Of course it doesn’t trust them, _I_ barely trust them.”

“Precisely. But you trust me, and it trusts me. It’s learned that I keep you safe. I left you only for a moment to get a washcloth for your head, and the Force did something new — it slapped me. It didn’t want me to leave. I swore I would be right back, and I was. It didn’t harm me at all for the rest of the episode afterward.”

“It wanted you to stay,” Anakin says, still in shock. “It knew you would keep me safe.”

“Precisely my thinking.”

Anakin breathes out for a solid ten seconds before saying in a rush, “Thank the all kriffing hells we never severed our bond. That’s probably why it trusts you in the first place.”

Obi-Wan squeezes his hand and offers him a reassuring smile. Soft and fond. “Keeping it has saved our lives countless times; it's one of the wisest choices we’ve ever made.”

Anakin thinks about the timing again and frowns. “It can’t be a coincidence this started after Ahsoka left. Is it… Did I get...darker? Obi-Wan, you have to tell me if I have because I can’t—”

“No. no you haven’t at all. Again, this is why I suspect someone among the Senate. We know Ahsoka was framed, and it was someone of great power and influence. That same person would have known that you would be more susceptible to a Sith influence after her leaving, perhaps hoping to take advantage of you in a difficult time, monopolize on your anger at her for leaving.”

Anakin snorted. “Jokes on them — I love Ahsoka like family. There’s no anger there. I never severed her bond either.”

Obi-Wan does a trouble take. “You never told me.”

“She asked me not to. You’re on the Council, she doesn’t trust them.” Neither does Anakin, but he doesn’t say that and tries not to think it too loudly. “She’s doing alright, checks in from time to time.”

“Could you—” Obi-Wan stops, sets down the holopad to look at Anakin directly, the depth of feeling there heavy with something he can’t quite suss out. “Could you pass on a message to her? Next time she checks in.”

“Of course,” Anakin nods, taking the glass of water he’d forgotten from R2 as the droid almost shoves him over. “What's the message?”

“Just let her know that I understand her distrust of the Council. But to remember that she can always trust me. Always.”

Anakin is certain that his former Master is not only addressing Ahsoka when he says this, not with the way his eyes bore into him like he can see right through him. “I will,” Anakin promises. “It helps, knowing where your loyalties lie.”

Obi-Wan gives him a look, and they’re absolutely not talking about Ahsoka anymore. “It’s with you, and with Ahsoka. Always. My position on the Council exists for that reason and that alone. I can’t always protect you, either of you. But with this I can affect their decisions, stop them from making another mistake that would cost you so dearly.”

“They don’t trust me, I don’t trust them.” Anakin says, aware it sounds childish, but it's no less true. 

“They do not, I see it now more than ever. But they trust me, and I trust you. We can use it to our advantage.” Obi-Wan says it like it's the most obvious statement in the world, and Anakin can feel tears in his eyes. He knows it's the after effects, but the simple fact that Obi-Wan trusts him, trusts human disaster Anakin Skywalker over the entire Council, makes Anakin want to both weep and kiss him, though he would rather get shot than do either. 

Instead he nods and says, “You know I do too. I trust you with my life. With everything.”

Obi-Wan lifts his head from where he had been blowing on his tea. And Anakin must be letting his emotions surface because his former master gives him a look he can’t identify. One Anakin hasn’t seen before in all of the years they’ve known another. “Everything?” Obi-Wan whispers. 

The words get caught in his throat, so Anakin just nods. When he does manage to open his mouth, he’s looking at the datapad discarded in the sheets, stammers out, “I can’t believe you’ve been tracking my migraines for me—” and if he had more to say the train of thought is lost to Obi-Wan’s warm hands on either side of his face, his beard tickling Anakin’s skin, his lips hot from the tea against Anakin’s mouth. 

It starts off innocent enough, but then Obi-Wan is licking into Anakin’s mouth and someone is moaning and it could be him, it could be both of them. The Force flickers at the edge of his awareness, barely a fraction, but he can still feel the warmth of its approval. He always expects it to pry them apart, turn dark with shame. It doesn’t; it’s bright gold. 

Obi-Wan pulls away and is kissing him softly, his cheeks, his eyelids. Anakin’s face is wet and it takes him a long moment of Obi-Wan kissing that moisture and whispering soothing words to realize he’s crying. 

“‘M sorry—” Anakin manages to say.

Obi-Wan cuts him off with a swift kiss on the mouth, clutching his curly hair. “Don’t you dare apologize for being vulnerable.” 

The Force may be distant but Anakin is dizzy, one realization after another bringing a fresh tidal wave to crash over him. Obi-Wan tracks his attacks to try and find a cure. Obi-Wan joined the Council _for him_. Has been spending all of that time in the Archives — which Anakin thought was researching the Sith Obi-Wan killed but came back to life — trying to find any information about what was happening to Anakin. And every chance to gain more distance, his Knighting, Obi-Wan’s appointment to the Council, Ahsoka leaving, Obi-Wan has stayed. Has kept Anakin close and not given up an inch to anyone or anything. What is he supposed to do with this? What is Anakin supposed to do but love him? 

Obi-Wan isn’t kissing him now. His former master has taken both of Anakin’s hands in his own. The metal must be cold without the leather glove he usually wears over it, but Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to mind; he tangles their fingers together and gives a reassuring squeeze. 

Anakin looks up from their hands to find Obi-Wan watching him with a soft, half-smile, a kind of sureness and shyness that seems both out of place and perfectly _Obi-Wan_. 

“You could, you know. If...if you wanted to,” Obi-Wan says, hesitant but determined.

Anakin’s brows draw up together, mouth pulling into a confused frown. “I could what?”

“You...you could love me.”

Anakin’s instinct is to _run_ but Obi-Wan will not let him go, even though the grip of his mech hand has to _hurt_. Anakin is certain he isn’t even breathing; his chest aches and his eyes are wider than Ahsoka was the first time she’d caught Obi-Wan half-dressed in Anakin’s quarters on _the Relentless_ . “I...You!” he manages to say, and it comes out more accusing than it should. It’s not Obi-Wan’s fault. This is on _him_. All of it is on him. “I’m sorry!” he cuts off Obi-Wan the moment the man opens his mouth. “My shields—”

“—have been down since yesterday.”

Anakin’s been cold since he woke up; his face is so hot he must be redder than Padme’s signature gowns. “Fuck, I…” He bites the inside of his mouth, swallows down the panic, takes a breath. It’s only then that Obi-Wan’s words start to register. “I _can’t_. I... I shouldn’t. I _know_ , you don’t have to tell me. But I do. Force help me, I do.”

Obi-Wan lets one of his hands go. Anakin braces for the sting, for the feeling of having the wind knocked out of him that rejection always feels like. 

This doesn’t happen. 

Obi-Wan only let his hand go to cup his face, tilting him up by the jaw to stop looking at the sheets and look Obi-Wan in the eye. And he’s _smiling_ , shy but there. “There you are. Will you listen to me, please, darling?”

Anakin’s heart goes from stillness to racing; Obi-Wan has never called him that once in his entire life. He can’t speak; he just nods. 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, tracing a thumb over Anakin’s bottom lip before going on. “Now I...I know this is asking a great deal of you. To put your whole...everything, at risk, for me. And I will understand if this isn’t worth it to you.”

“You’re worth _everything!_ Obi-Wan—”

“Please, let me finish,” Obi-Wan says, tone sharp like he’s about to be lectured. Anakin shuts his mouth; Obi-Wan continues. “I will be here, I will _remain_ right here, by your side, whichever you decide. I will always be _right here._ No matter what. But if you wanted to...we could.”

“How?” Anakin asks, like Obi-Wan has just suggested peace talks with the Separatist leaders of Genosis.

Obi-Wan’s smile lifts, and he tucks a curl behind Anakin’s ear. “How what?”

“How would we? They...they would _never._ Obi-Wan they would throw you out. And they would throw me out for making it happen.”

“Only if they found out,” Obi-Wan points out. 

Anakin has to laugh at that, and it comes out bitter. “You want to keep our relationship _secret?_ Obi-Wan — no. I’ve tried this before, it ended badly. The strain of it—”

Obi-Wan’s brows go up to his hairline; Anakin gives him a look back. Obi-Wan settles at that. “Of course — Padme. I should have known. When?”

“We ended it just a few months into the war. The...the distance, and the stress. It hurt for a long time. I’m grateful to have her as a friend now.”

“I’m sorry, and I’m glad you two are still so close. But Anakin… How… Does what we have now, does it create the same struggle?”

“No! I see you all the time. And everyone is pretty used to us being a team now, so the sneaking around has been a breeze.”

“So why would this break us?”

It wouldn’t. The only thing that’s been tearing Anakin apart has been the shame of it, the strain of keeping the depth of his affection locked away from the man who shares so much of Anakin’s life already.

“You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of,” Obi-Wan states, fingers gripping his jaw again just enough to pull Anakin’s attention back to him. “Not in this. Not with us.”

 _Us._ That one word pulls a sob from Anakin’s throat, has him swearing in Huttese as he chokes back the tears. But for all that Obi-Wan has said, he hasn’t said _it._

“Oh Anakin,” he sighs just like he’s done a million times before. “Do you know why I’m certain we can do this? Because I have loved you in silence under constant scrutiny as a council member, as a Jedi Master, for so long that I stopped being afraid of loving you long ago.”

Anakin can _feel it_ , even with this senses at a mere fraction of what he’s capable of, the depth of Obi-Wan’s affection opens to him like a double sun rise. And Anakin _wants_. He wants to take Obi-Wan in his arms and feel his love returned, for the first time in his life.

But still, something drags at him. The same thing that turned his last romance to ash. “But we can’t… We can’t keep this a secret forever. Obi-Wan, that will _never_ work. And I can’t have you turning bitter over it, I won’t—”

“I know darling, and we won’t. It’s just until the war is done. When it's safe, when Rex and Cody and Ahsoka can hang up their weapons, we’ll come clean and we can go anywhere, everywhere,” Obi-Wan squeezes his mech hand, and Anakin hadn’t even realized how tight he was holding on. The hand on his face settles on the back of Anakin’s neck, tracing gentle circles in the nape of his curls. “Anakin, certainly you know by now, I would follow you anywhere.”

He does. Obi-Wan has never once so much as looked back. He’s always known; it's what keeps him going. Anakin could march into the lowest of the Sith hells, and Obi-Wan would be there beside him. It’s a thought that’s always frightened him, but it doesn’t now. It’s a comfort. 

A deadline. An end in sight. They just have to live to see it. 

Obi-Wan shakes his head, “You and Padme. I should have seen it.”

“I thought it would help me get over you,” Anakin blurts out. 

Obi-Wan gives him a look like he did when Anakin was young, when Anakin would do something profoundly foolish. “Did it?”

“For a time, a very short time. That I was only heartbroken over her for a few weeks before you and I were sent on assignment together probably says enough.”

“Which assignment was that?” Obi-Wan asks, and he doesn’t expect Anakin to remember. It was so long ago; they’ve been on so many. 

“Orto Plutonia,” Anakin says without even needing to think about it.

Obi-Wan huffs. “Right, The moon of Pantora, with Chairman Cho. What a mess.”

“But it all worked out in the end,” Anakin says, reaching across the space between them with his good hand to pull Obi-Wan close and kiss him gently, just once, almost chaste. He kisses Obi-Wan's cheeks, around his beard, and down his neck before curling up on top of him and settling in, arms around Obi-Wan’s back, cheek comfortably testing on his Obi-Wan’s chest. Anakin can hear his heartbeat, steady and sure.

“Anakin—”

“Your tea is getting cold,” Anakin mutters, nuzzling in again to get comfortable. 

“That's...very thoughtful darling, thank you.”

“Anytime...honey.”

Obi-Wan laughs and drinks his tea, and it feels like it could be any other morning. Save for the bond that was once strained, half-closed off and half in agony, glowing healthy and bright without a single barrier between them. 

Anakin kisses the bare skin of Obi-Wan's chest and whispers, “Love you.”

Obi-Wan summons his datapad again, kisses the top of Anakin’s head, and pulls open the reports that have come in while he was asleep. “I love you too. I’ll wake you for lunch.”

“Brunch,” Anakin argues, because Obi-Wan hasn’t eaten yet.

Obi-Wan lets his fingers card gently through Anakin’s hair, gently massaging his head and making Anakin moan quietly. “Brunch then,” he agrees. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at the end of seven migraine attacks in a row, by which time I had concluded that Anakin Skywalker gets migraine attacks, in this essay I will-
> 
> Apologies for Mace being OOC - really didn't know he apparently hated Anakin to pieces until about a month after writing this. To which I flipped off the suggested reading article on my mobile browser and said no thanks Disney, I do what I want. 
> 
> Additional apologies if I've missed anything in edits - I tried, and therefore no one can judge me. 
> 
> I may or may not write a smutty follow-up. I go where my ADHD winds carry me, friend.


End file.
